


2 P.M And You Could Find Better Things to do in Boston

by moodyme



Series: Hours [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, Cheating, Infidelity, Parent Death, Pre-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:46:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyme/pseuds/moodyme
Summary: Declan Lynch sits in the passenger seat of his dad's BMW, waiting for him to leave the townhouse he has become familiar with here in Boston.





	2 P.M And You Could Find Better Things to do in Boston

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Reba McIntyre - Whoever's in New England  
> Unedited and unbeta'd.

 When Declan Lynch was 12 years old, his dad took him on his first 'business' trip. It had been exciting, spending a whole week with his dad, feeling grown up when he was let in on his secret dealings and his dad slipping him sips of beer outside of his mom's watchful gaze. And then they pulled up to a townhouse in Boston, and his dad had gotten out with a wink and a promise that he wouldn't be too long. Two hours of flipping through radio stations later, he watched as his dad stepped through the door and a dark haired woman in a robe kissed him before he was going down the five steps leading to the door of the house and slipping into the drivers seat. Declan wanted to throw up. He wanted to punch his dad in the face until he stopped grinning. He wanted to go hug his mom. He wanted to go back to three hours ago when his dad was pulling away from the McDonalds they had gotten lunch at. 

 His dad was saying something about being a man and keeping secrets and 'I can trust you, right?'. Declan nodded his head. He promised not to tell his mom. He knew it wouldn't happen again. His dad wasn't like that.

 Except four months later and they were back in Boston, and his dad was pulling up to a familiar townhouse. This time, Declan didn't stay in the car. He wrote a quick note on a napkin he found in the glove box and started walking. They had passed a coffee place a few blocks back, and he spent 2 hours think about how he could just stay gone. How he hoped his dad stayed in Boston and Declan could go home and never tell his mom what happened and never tell Ronan what happened and never tell Matty what happened. He was still fantasizing about going back to the Barns alone when his dad's knuckles rapped against the table. He looked up at his smiling face and twinkling eyes. He told him to shower when he was done the next time.

 When he was 14, he had fallen into the rhythm of it. Go with his dad, spend a few days helping him with the business, drive to Boston, sit in the car from noon until 2 p.m, watch his dad leave the townhouse with wet hair, don't tell mom, don't tell Ronan, don't tell Matty, don't punch his dad, don't punch his dad, don't punch his dad.

 When he was 15, Ronan whined about not being able to go with dad when Declan had been allowed when he was 12. Declan wanted to scream. He wanted to scream about how Ronan really doesn't want to go. Not just because of Boston and the Townhouse, but all the other shitty parts of them business. Then he wanted to punch his dad again because he realized if it had been Ronan with dad, he never would have stopped in Boston. 

 When he was 15, he sat in the car regretting not having his phone charged and wishing his dad wouldn't be so weird about not letting cell phone chargers in the car. Sometimes he thought he didn't let them have them just to be annoying. Bored, he began listing what they could be doing in Boston that didn't involve him sitting in the car flipping through the radio and his dad fucking the woman in the townhouse.

 They could be at Fenway Park. Or the Boston Commons. Or Bunker Hill. Or the Kennedy Library. Or the Franklin Zoo, even though he had been too old for zoo's for a long time now. They could be at any one of those places in this old city that wasn't the white townhouse with the Massachusetts state flag on the porch and the woman with dark hair.

 Later, when Niall's chaos finally catches up with him, and he get's his head bashed in in their drive-way (and he'll never forgive him for that, for leading a life that ended with Ronan having to find him like that) he watches the clock on the wall of the kitchen, one of his dad's dream things.

 Ronan is screaming at him, and he's drunk and Matty looks scared, and his mom's asleep and he doesn't know when or if she'll wake up, and his dad's dead. His dad is dead. His dad is dead. His dad is dead. And he wonders if it should hurt more than this, or if he's capable of hurting more than this, if anything will ever hurt more than this. He hopes to God it doesn't. 

 He looks back at the clock on the wall over Ronan's shoulder (and he's still screaming and screaming and screaming) and watches as the clock ticks from 1:59 p.m to 2 p.m and he wonders if he should send a letter to Boston, if she already knows. He wonders if his mom knew after all. If she cared. If Niall had made her so she wouldn't care. Ronan is still screaming. And Declan gives in and starts screaming right back.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in like 30 min and it's not great, but I really wanted to explore Declan's relationship with Niall.  
> Funny enough, Perfect by Simple Plan came on my playlist while writing this lol
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it! Or if you hated it! Or if I should have tagged this as hurt, no comfort!  
> I want to write a TRC ficlet for every hour of the day, so if you want to prompt me something and an hour, I'll try to do it. Comment or hmu on tumblr at daleyposts.


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